


Madara the Disaster Virgin

by lecturience



Category: Naruto
Genre: Adorable Disaster, Awkward First Time, Biting, Comedy of Errors, Established Relationship, Flaily Madara, Fluff and Smut, Loss of Virginity, Love, M/M, One Shot, PWP, sex jutsu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23977537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecturience/pseuds/lecturience
Summary: First times do not always go smooth.(Wherein the sex is a comedy of errors, but fortunately for Madara, Tobirama loves him enough to find that endearing.)
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 35
Kudos: 305





	Madara the Disaster Virgin

Madara’s heart had been racing since the moment Tobirama invited him over ‘for coffee’.

This wasn’t like _last_ time Tobirama issued such an invitation. Madara remembered how confused he’d looked when Madara—trying to be a good house guest—offered to fetch the mugs. Tobirama had stared at him strangely over the table as they drank, and finally saw him out with a mirthful kiss to the cheek, and the suggestion that he ask Izuna what ‘coffee’ meant.

Madara had since been enlightened.

And mortified. He’d been _very_ mortified.

And also a bit… disheartened. He could have— but he had— and what if Tobirama _never asked him again_!?

But he had. He _had_ asked again. And Madara had blurted out a “Yes please!”, which he’d regretted immediately, because that was probably not the right response. Also, he’d been so loud that passers-by turned to stare. Fortunately, Tobirama just laughed softly, linked their fingers, and dragged Madara towards his house.

By the time they stepped inside, the front door closing behind them, Madara’s heart was beating so hard he was _sure_ Tobirama must be able to hear it too. Maybe that was why he was kissing Madara so gently? Trying to calm him down?

It was _not_ working.

A hand slid under the back of Madara’s pants and he squeaked, flailing, and almost smacked Tobirama in the face.

“Fuck, sorry!”

Tobirama chuckled. “It’s fine.” He carefully grasped Madara’s wrist, tugging the arm over his shoulder. Then, for good measure—since it was just kind of held out to the side, Madara not sure what to do with it—Tobirama tugged the other arm around his waist.

Madara, utterly relieved that Tobirama hadn’t changed his mind—and grateful for the direction—obligingly wrapped his arms more firmly around Tobirama and leaned in to kiss him again. And this time, when a hand slipped under his pants, he was _totally_ cool about it. Cool as a cucumber. Cool as a snowman. Cool as Frost Country in winter!

…Well, maybe he squeaked again.

But he didn’t flail! And there was no threat of bodily harm! So… improvement?

Tobirama sucked at Madara’s bottom lip, making his knees go weak. Literally. But luckily Tobirama was quick to pull the hand from Madara’s pants, sliding it up to wrap around his waist and support him. Madara was maybe a little disappointed. Because it was good that he hadn’t fallen to the floor, dragging Tobirama with him—great in fact!—but… once he’d got over the shock, he’d kind of really liked what Tobirama had been doing back there. The, um, the squeezing? Was nice. _Really_ nice.

Stupid weak knees.

That was the point at which things took a turn for the worse—even worse than the near slapping—as Tobirama tilted his head, licking into Madara’s mouth, and Madara—

He _bit down_ in shock!

“Ow!” Tobirama cried, jerking back, and oh gods, there was _blood_!

“I’m so _sorry!_ ” Madara wailed. This was a _disaster_! “I— I’ll get a bandage— No, wait, that won’t work. Water? Do you want water? Or— You know what? I’LL JUST GO!”

Madara put words to action and turned to flee. A hand grabbed his wrist before he could get far. Shaking his head, Tobirama raised his free hand and pressed two green-glowing fingers into his own mouth, dragging them over his tongue. Madara would have found that a lot more, er, distracting, if he wasn’t so busy writhing in guilt.

As the slight pain on Tobirama’s face slid away, Madara slumped in relief.

Oh thank gods.

Except no, because he’d still ruined this.

“’M sorry,” Madara muttered.

“It’s fine,” Tobirama assured him. “All healed. No permanent damage.”

Madara probably looked as sceptical as he felt, because Tobirama carefully pulled him closer and kissed him again, parting lips and very daringly _risking his tongue again_. And maybe that would have softened Madara, that gesture of trust, if not for one thing…

“You taste like blood,” Madara whispered miserably.

Tobirama huffed and strode towards his kitchen. He still had yet to let go of Madara’s wrist, like he was afraid Madara would run if he did—Tobirama was… maybe right to be cautious. Tobirama quickly filled a mug of water at the tap, swished his mouth out several times, then drank what was left. He then paused, looking down at the mug with amusement, which he invited Madara to share by raising an eyebrow, looking between it and Madara with quirked lips.

Madara followed his gaze… and flushed. Because that was one of the mugs he’d pulled out for them last time, when they had literally had _coffee_.

His free hand slapped over his face.

Why was he so _terrible_ at this!?

There was the clink of a mug being set down, and then Tobirama chuckled, stepping close. He tried to pry Madara’s hand off, but it would not be budged—Madara was trying to _hide his shame_ here, okay!?—so instead Tobirama nuzzled at Madara’s jaw, little soft kisses that trailed up, peppering round the edges of fingers till Madara’s stupid heart went all fuzzy and warm and he let his hand drop. Tobirama’s eyes were creased with amusement, but the sting of being laughed at was soothed by the deep fondness also visible. He kissed Madara’s lips this time, moving closer, pressing Madara up against the kitchen counter as he cupped his face and gave the tongue thing _another_ try and—

Oh.

Well.

That was…

_Wow_.

Madara was suddenly really glad he hadn’t ruined things with the biting. And also that he hadn’t been allowed to run away. And _also_ that Tobirama was so fricking patient that he’d paused to gargle and then coax Madara to stop hiding his face like a child, because _this_? This was _amazing_!

Madara’s hand clutched at the front of Tobirama’s shirt, twisting in the material to keep himself upright. He opened his mouth and licked back and _gods_ , that was _even better_. The kiss grew slicker, deeper, more frantic. Madara tugged at Tobirama, wanting him closer and—

_Rip_.

He froze. Looked down. And yep, he had torn Tobirama’s shirt. There was now a gaping hole over his shoulder where the seam had parted. With a low, despairing groan, Madara thunked his forehead down, face hot.

“It’s fine,” Tobirama said, voice rich with stifled laughter. “It’s just a shirt. I can mend it.”

Madara took a deep breath. Right. Just a shirt. If Tobirama could shrug off a _bleeding wound_ , this was nothing.

Still, he felt a little guilty, and that tear was right there under his face now, so he pressed a kiss of apology to the exposed skin.

Tobirama sucked in a sharp breath.

Oh? Blinking rapidly, Madara did it again, and Tobirama tilted his head, giving him more room. Feeling daring, Madara kissed him open-mouthed there, tongue darting out to taste skin. Tobirama shivered, cupping the back of Madara’s head, fingers threading in his hair. He gently tugged Madara back—wait, did he _not_ like it, had Madara completely misread him!?—and drew him up to his neck instead—oh, thank gods, he hadn’t messed up—and when Madara obligingly kissed him there, and then sucked, Tobirama _moaned_.

Hands tugged his hair again, pulling him back. Tobirama caught Madara’s mouth in a kiss as he drew him away from the counter and began leading them towards the bedroom without parting. A risky manoeuvre, given recent events, but fortunately for Tobirama, Madara was _very_ careful to not bite him. Um, again. Admittedly, being so single-mindedly focussed on the kissing meant he stubbed his toe several times on passing furniture. But he didn’t break any vases or priceless heirlooms or anything, so he was counting it as a win!

They reached the bedroom and drew apart to undress. Or one of them did. Madara didn’t manage to remove more than his gloves before getting distracted. He stood staring, awed, as Tobirama removed his clothing piece by piece, until he was _naked_ and _so godsdamned beautiful_.

“Well?” Tobirama finally asked as the staring drew out, at which point Madara realised he was _not_ holding up his end of things.

“Sorry!” he said, and hastily tore his own clothes off. Or tried to. Shirtless and halfway to being pantsless, he realised he’d forgotten his shoes. Reaching down to tug them off turned out to be a mistake. He sort of hopped, tripped on the pants around his ankles, and went flying headfirst into a bedpost.

“Madara!”

He wheezed, ears ringing. He was pretty sure he had a concussion. There was even the familiar nausea to go with it.

…Oh fuck. Oh no. He was _not_ going to vomit while Tobirama was naked. _He_ _wasn’t_!!

Fortunately for the mood—if you could still call it that—and Madara’s dignity—assuming any remained—Tobirama quickly pressed glowing green hands to Madara’s head and healed the concussion before it came to that.

“Let me see,” Tobirama said, tilting Madara’s chin as he sat up. “Pupils are good. I think you’re fine. You hurt anywhere else?” he asked, running hands assessingly over Madara’s body only to pause as he squeaked. Tobirama raised an eyebrow, then ran hands over Madara’s body more _deliberately_ , smirking when Madara went red.

“Stop! Wait!” Madara flailed, then winced in equal parts embarrassment and relief as Tobirama narrowly dodged being hit. Again. “I— Shoes! I need to—”

Skilful fingers reached for Madara’s ankle to slip them off for him. By some miracle—or something less divine, but still _deeply_ appreciated—Tobirama had the foresight to grip tightly, preventing Madara from accidentally kicking him in the face. Because he certainly tried to, if inadvertently, in his surprise.

Tobirama paused for a moment, head bowed and shoulders shaking and—

He was totally laughing at Madara!

This was a _disaster_!

“No it’s not,” Tobirama said, clueing Madara in to the fact that he’d said that aloud. He quickly slipped Madara’s shoes off, then his pants too, and tugged him to his feet. “You’re doing just fine, Madara. Remind me to tell you about _my_ first time at some point—I broke his nose.”

Madara froze. “ _Who said this was my first time_!?!?” he demanded, voice two octaves too high.

“Oh, just a guess,” Tobirama said, dryer than the Suna desert.

Madara spluttered, glancing away, cheeks hot. Gods, was it that obvious?

Who was he kidding—of course it was.

It wasn’t his fault though! It wasn’t that he hadn’t had offers. He’d totally had offers! Lots of offers! Because Madara was desirable, alright? But… well, running a clan while fighting a war was _hard_. And running a clan while building a village wasn’t much better. So he’d been _busy_ , okay? That was all. His embarrassing lack of experience wasn’t because— because Madara was reduced to a flustered, flaily mess whenever he had a crush, and could never manage to be coherent enough to start a relationship.

Nope, that wasn’t it _at all_.

…But if, hypothetically, that _was_ it?

Well then Madara would be _deeply_ grateful that Tobirama had taken the initiative to ask Madara out, and hadn’t given up after Madara screeched wordlessly in his face and fled—not that he, uh, did that or anything… shut up it didn’t happen!—and _kept_ asking till Madara finally managed to choke out a yes, and then still asked him out for more dates after Madara dumped his meal on their waiter—which was _not_ a fluster-induced accident. Nope. It was, um, because that waiter looked shifty! Yeah, he might’ve been an undercover enemy, and Madara was just being a dutiful ninja attempting to expose him!

Tobirama was just… just _so patient_ with Madara as he got used to the whole dating thing and became comfortable enough that his flustery flail levels scaled back from ‘constant, intense’ to ‘only _semi_ -frequent, _usually_ mild’, and—

“Wait,” Madara said suddenly. “You broke his nose?” Because if that was true, Madara felt a _little_ better about his own poor showing thus far.

“We both decided at the same time that we wanted to suck each other off. Heads collided. Well, forehead to nose.”

Madara gaped, cheeks flushing with colour.

Tobirama smirked. “You’re imagining me sucking you off now, aren’t you?”

Madara squeaked and turned away to— to— get on the bed! That was it, he was just moving things forward, not _hiding_ or anything!

… _Right_.

With soft laughter, Tobirama followed after him. Any nettled pride was immediately soothed—or blasted away by shock—when Tobirama settled quite confidently in Madara’s lap. Madara froze, half afraid that if he moved he’d flail and knock Tobirama off his lap—which would be genuinely _tragic_ —or off the bed entirely—which would be _mortifying_.

With a teasing smile, Tobirama leaned in to kiss him. “You can touch me, Madara,” he murmured. “I’d like it if you would.”

Madara made a sound not unlike a teakettle at boil. But fuck, _touching_. He— he _very much_ wanted to touch.

His hands shook as he reached out, smoothing palms down Tobirama’s chest, darting looks up every other second to make sure he hadn’t screwed up. Tobirama just smiled at him. So… good? When he reached Tobirama’s stomach, near his stupidly pretty cock—seriously, _how_ , weren’t they supposed to just look weird!?—Madara froze.

Then he diverted his hands around, down Tobirama’s thighs instead, cheeks hot and pretending he’d intended to do that all along.

Because he had!

Yup. Sure.

He very pointedly ignored Tobirama’s amused gaze even as the man leaned closer, going so far as to turn his head away. Tobirama chuckled and brushed their cheeks together instead. Swallowing hard as his hands smoothed back up strong, lean thighs, Madara hesitated, then gathered his courage and finally wrapped a hand around Tobirama’s cock. It was smooth and firm, and the best part was the _sound_ Tobirama made—a subtle thing, a hitching of breath that Madara only caught because Tobirama’s mouth was so close to his ear.

Licking his lips, Madara turned his head slightly to kiss Tobirama’s jaw, then down to his neck where— Yep, Tobirama still really liked that, tilting his head to give better access and moaning softly. And then less softly when Madara began to stroke up and down Tobirama’s cock until the man began rocking in his lap, rocking into his hand, then reaching his own hand between them. Madara was too enraptured by Tobirama’s responses to realise the obvious intent until long, slim fingers wrapped around _his_ cock, and then—

Madara made a strangled sound and _bit down_.

He immediately yelped and jerked back with an, “I’m sorry! I—”

And then he paused, because Tobirama looked faintly startled, but mostly… mostly _turned on_. And the sound he’d made? That wasn’t pain. That was the complete _opposite_ of pain.

A careful glance showed Madara had left teeth marks but not broken the skin.

“It’s—” Tobirama’s voice came out gravelly—it _did things_ to Madara—and he cleared his throat, saying more clearly, “It’s okay, Madara.” Voice low and sultry, he added, “Feel free to bite as much as you like.”

Madara shivered. And then he whined a little mournfully as Tobirama, with a thoughtful hum, slipped off his lap.

Wait! Come back!

Tobirama didn’t, but that was okay, because instead he lay back, making himself comfortable, then smirked and crooked a finger. Madara’s breath caught. He imagined draping himself atop Tobirama, hips nestled in the cradle of—oh gods—thigh spread wide in welcome. He imagined how their cocks would press close, slide together and—

With a strangled sound, Madara accepted the invitation with perhaps more enthusiasm than grace. All enthusiasm, _zero_ grace really. Because as he crawled up the bed, his hand landed on his long hair where it fell by Tobirama’s thigh. When he tried to move further he was pulled up short, and with a pained yelp, faceplanted into Tobirama’s chest.

Eyes watering, Madara moaned, “My _nose_.”

The chest under him shuddered, and then there was laughter filling the air. Madara’s cheeks went hot. Irritated at his renewed embarrassment, he bit chidingly at the nipple near his mouth.

Tobirama’s laughter cut off, fracturing into a moan, back arching slightly.

_Oh_.

Jerking his hair free—ignoring the lingering throb of pain in his skull—Madara settled more comfortably and put his mouth to the other nipple. Gentle at first, a swipe of tongue. Then he sucked on it. Tobirama’s hands found his shoulders, almost kneading. And when Madara bit again—softly, but… he _had_ been told to bite as much as he liked—Tobirama’s nails dug in. The sharp pinpricks of pain sent a jolt of pleasure down Madara’s spine and he groaned.

Huh. Pain to pleasure. That was… unexpected. Was that why Tobirama liked the biting thing? Could… could Madara maybe convince Tobirama to bite _him_?

He shuddered at the thought.

When he darted a speculative glance up, he froze, completely losing his train of thought.

Tobirama’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes glazed in a sort of hazy pleasure. And when Madara bit a little harder and tugged, pink lips parted, a thin whine escaping between desperate gasps for air.

It was, hands down, the hottest thing Madara had _ever seen_.

When Tobirama tugged him up impatiently, Madara went. And as Tobirama caught him in a deep kiss, Madara’s hips settled against Tobirama’s. It was even better than he’d imagined! Tobirama’s cock was hot and hard beside his. Madara’s hips jolted, and then he was rutting against Tobirama, who rocked his hips back, and Madara—

Shit! Wait! No, _not yet_ —

Groaning in equal parts panic and pleasure, Madara came.

In less than thirty seconds.

Like a teenager.

Cheeks on fire—his whole face probably red, if not steaming—Madara groaned again, this time _entirely_ mortified, as he buried his face in Tobirama’s neck. He wanted to shrivel up and die of shame! No, he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole! Where was an earth jutsu when you needed one? Why had he never _learned_ an earth jutsu so he could perform it himself!?

_Whyyy_!?!?

Tobirama was making soothing sounds, threading through Madara’s hair with one hand, the other rubbing comfortingly up and down his back. He was saying things like, “It’s okay. You’re alright. Come on now, won’t you look at me?” but Madara refused to raise his head. It was all the shield he had against the horrible reality of Madara being _the worst lover ever_!

Gods, he really _was_. First the injuries, and now here he was, so selfish, his own come wet between them while Tobirama was still hard and wanting, and just… He made a defeated sort of noise and found the wherewithal to whisper, “I am _so_ sorry.” Because Tobirama deserved an apology for Madara’s poor performance, dammit!

“I don’t know why,” Tobirama said, and unseen, Madara frowned, confused. “It’s probably not so much to do with _me_ as your inexperience, but I’m a little flattered by how much I turn you on, that you’d come so quickly for me.”

Madara’s cheeks, which had just started to cool, heated again.

“Anyway, this just means you’ll have more stamina for the next part.”

“Next part?” Startled, Madara finally drew away, propping himself up to look down at Tobirama.

Tobirama met his gaze and held it, lips curling into a knowing smile as he hummed, sliding the hand on Madara’s back down further and—

Madara squeaked, arms giving way, and groaned as his nose met chest.

Again.

Well, more clavicle this time, which was worse, _harder_.

Eyes watering, face throbbing, Madara thought he might have done real damage this time. But then Tobirama’s free hand was there, glowing green. He brushed along Madara’s nose, easing the pain. Then he kissed it for good measure. And all the while the other hand—the one… _down there_ —continued to rub fingers between Madara’s cheeks, back and forth over… um, over _there_.

“Okay?” Tobirama asked.

Madara propped himself up again—forearms this time, not hands, in case his elbows once more gave out—and swallowed a few times before saying, “Um, yes?” a bit more breathily than he’d intended.

“That a question or an answer?”

One finger circled close round Madara’s hole, and gods, how had he never known he was _sensitive_ there!? A whimpered, “Answer,” escaped him. “Definitely— definitely an, uh, an answer.” He bit his lip. “Are you going to…” He trailed off, breathless and shaky with equal parts arousal and nerves.

“Do you want me to?”

Madara considered it. “I like what your fingers are doing. I’d like… um, more of that. But I’m not sure…”

Tobirama kissed him. Gently, soothingly. He brushed Madara’s hair behind one ear, and gave him a smile so soft it sent butterflies fluttering in Madara’s stomach—or, well, something less _girly_ —before reaching behind a pillow for—

Oh. That was… that was a bottle of scented oil. For, ahem, _intimate_ use.

“Would you like me to finger you, then?” Tobirama asked. He just _asked_ it. Like— like what he was saying wasn’t _utterly filthy_. “I’ll finger you till you’re hard again, and then _you_ can fuck _me_?”

Madara wheezed, cock jerking even though he was spent. He nodded frantically, then realised that he was… maybe being too eager, less than suave.

…Not that he had been in _any_ way suave this evening.

Urgh.

He ducked his head, letting his hair fall to shadow his face. Then he pretended he was turning his attention to Tobirama’s chest again. That’s right, he was just trying to be an equal participant here. Not _hiding_ his probably unattractive ‘poleaxed by arousal’ expression. Nope.

Tobirama didn’t seem inclined to call him out on it at least, arching up with a pleased moan.

It was really amazing that he could draw sounds like that out of Tobirama actually. Madara got so engrossed with licking and nibbling, and pinching too, that he didn’t even notice when Tobirama’s fingers, which had drawn away, returned slick and intent. They found Madara’s hole and one slid right inside, and Madara choked, accidentally twisting a nipple. Tobirama cried out. Madara briefly thanked all the gods that was a _good_ sound, not a pain sound. Then he pressed his forehead to Tobirama’s shoulder, just trying to breathe as that finger slipped in and out of him.

And then it was _two_ fingers.

“Okay?” Tobirama ask in a low tone, free hand petting Madara’s hair, and Madara nodded shakily.

It felt— it felt weird, was the thing. Weird, but not _bad_? Which was weird in itself. Full in a way that shouldn’t feel good but kinda did. Madara’s favourite part was how Tobirama’s knuckles tugged at his rim. Or it _was_ , until Tobirama twisted and found— found _something_ inside, that made Madara’s fists clench in the sheets, eyes squeezing shut, arching back for more of that _fucking amazing_ new sensation. And Tobirama gave it to him, rocking his hips up in time with the thrusts of his fingers, cock sliding against Madara’s own with sparks of sharp-edged pleasure.

Madara trembled, feeling almost… almost vulnerable.

Tobirama was _inside_ of him.

He tucked closer to Tobirama, who murmured soothingly, but Madara barely heard it over the sound of— Oh, that was _him_ making those whining noises, wasn’t it? Madara’s cheeks heated, and he tried to occupy his mouth with something else, like pressing kisses to Tobirama’s neck, and sucking firmly, and occasionally biting. It didn’t really work to stifle the sounds Madara was making, but— but it was a bit less mortifying when Tobirama was _also_ making pleased sounds.

Madara was so focussed on the _fingers_ that he didn’t notice, till Tobirama’s other hand squeezed between them and brushed over Madara’s cock, that he was fully hard again. Tobirama made a pleased, hungry sound that was— It was _really_ good for Madara’s ego actually. And he’d like to say he played it cool and, like… smirked or something?—a witty, dirty quip was beyond his repertoire, he admitted—but the truth was less flattering.

Madara reared up, trying to give Tobirama more space to touch his cock. And only then did he realise that one of his hands, still fisted in the sheets, had grabbed a hank of hair as well.

He almost tore it out.

“Ow, fuck!”

Tobirama stifled laughter again.

Madara resigned himself to the inevitable fact that, after tonight, he would have no air of dignity left when it came to this man.

He’d have some _really_ erotic memories though, and he decided it was a fair trade. Especially when Tobirama’s mirth was accompanied by fond eyes, and he cupped Madara’s face and kissed him slow and deep, then pulled back and murmured, “You’re a disaster, but you know, I do love you.”

Madara felt like he’d been struck by lightning.

In a _good_ way!

He swallowed hard. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Tobirama quirked a brow, amused again.

“I mean yes! I mean I do— I also—” Madara facepalmed. Taking a deep breath, he met Tobirama’s eyes squarely—because this was _important_ —and said. “I love you too.”

“I know.”

Madara blinked. “What? Wait. What do you _mean_ you know? Who just says that? And how _could_ you know? I never told you!”

“You’re a little obvious.”

“I am _not_! I am a— a _ninja_! A master of subterfuge! I’m stealth and grace and _subtlety_ and— _Why are you laughing!?_ ” Madara demanded, and flailed so hard he… fell off the bed.

There was a long moment of silence.

Madara stood. Dusted himself off. Met Tobirama’s gaze.

“Grace,” Tobirama repeated deadpan. Madara huffed, and Tobirama laughed, holding out a hand. “Come back here, love.”

_Love_.

Madara’s heart _didn’t_ melt, okay!

It just sort of… went soft and squishy.

In a manly way!

He clambered back on the bed, and settled once more between Tobirama’s thighs, but kneeling this time. He tentatively reached for Tobirama’s cock. When the man only moaned, pleased, and rocked up into it, Madara began to stroke gently. He suddenly remembered that anecdote about Tobirama’s first time, and _sucking_ , and licked his lips. Cheeks hot, equal parts curious and eager and embarrassed, Madara bowed his head down to—

“Wait,” Tobirama said, fingers threaded in his hair to stop him. When Madara glanced up with wide eyes, uncertainty churning in his stomach, he was met with the sight of Tobirama looking _torn_. His eyes were half-lidded in a way that said desire, but his brows were also furrowed and he gave a sad sigh, hand moving to pet Madara’s cheek. “Best not this time. Just in case. _That_ is not a place I’d be able to shrug off being accidentally bitten.”

Madara choked, horrified at the thought—especially since it wasn’t so farfetched, given evidence thus far. He hurriedly backed away, and yelped as he felt himself tip off the end of the bed. He scrambled for the blanket, but it only succeeded in slowing his fall as it slid with him. Madara’s hands kept clutching at more, in vain, and by the time he landed on the floor—gently at least… small victories—the blanket had been pulled entirely off the bed and he was tangled up in it.

He considered flailing about. But really, by this point all Madara could manage was a weary sigh.

Tobirama’s head popped over the side of the bed, hair tousled, biting his lip. Red eyes glimmered with mirth. Madara paused in attempting to untangle himself, just staring, and then blurted, “You’re so _beautiful_.”

Before Madara could think to be embarrassed, Tobirama’s eyes widened, and his cheeks pinked.

He was _blushing_.

_Madara_ had made him blush.

Wow. He was even prettier like that.

Gah.

Legs—long, lovely legs Madara was briefly distracted by—slid over the side of the bed, and Tobirama leaned down to help untangle Madara. Just as Tobirama opened his mouth—maybe to invite Madara back onto the bed, or to tease, or probably both—Madara sucked in a sharp breath as something Tobirama had said _finally_ clicked.

“This time!?” Madara said, voice strained with eagerness and nerves. “You said I best not, um, you know…” He glanced at Tobirama’s lap. Licked his lips. Then he realised what he’d done and ducked his head, flustered. “Not _this_ time. Implying… implying there will be _other_ times?”

“I hope so.”

“Oh,” Madara said faintly, mind blown. To think, not so long ago, he’d thought he’d missed his chance to be with Tobirama this way—stupid ‘coffee’ and obscure double-entendres… shut up, it was totally obscure!—and now? _Now_ he not only got to have this, he would get to have it _again_. Perhaps even… several agains?

Tobirama tilted Madara’s chin up. “I want you in my bed as often as I can have you, for a long as I can have you.”

Madara’s breath caught.

_All_ the agains! Tobirama wanted ALL THE AGAINS!

Swallowing hard, Madara hurriedly shuffled closer—rather awkwardly, but miraculously without… tripping, or headbutting Tobirama, or something equally ridiculous but tragically likely—and, kneeling between Tobirama’s legs, he leaned up and kissed him with eagerness. His hands, more confident now—Tobirama wanted this to happen _as often as possible!_ —reached for Tobirama, one wrapping round his cock. The other came up briefly to pinch a nipple—and Madara _loved_ the way Tobirama moaned into the kiss, hips shifting restlessly—before sliding back down again. Madara grew more tentative as he trailed his hand lower and lower, slipping under Tobirama to cradle his balls, and then—

He hesitated, confidence fleeing entirely.

“Um,” Madara said, then cleared his throat. “You wanted me to…”

“Fuck me?”

Madara choked. “Yes. That.” He cleared his throat again. “But I need to first… you know… like you were for me, with… with the _fingers_ ,” he mumbled. “Right?”

“Hmm,” Tobirama said, eyes lidded, still rocking up into Madara’s fist. “Normally yes. But…” With a regretful sigh, he drew Madara’s hands away, kissing each palm before releasing them—and Madara didn’t _blush_ at the simple romantic gesture, okay? he wasn’t some, some swooning maiden—then slid back onto the bed properly. Madara followed, kneeling between spread legs again as Tobirama said, “Reach back and tug the plug out.”

Madara frowned, confused, but did as directed. Plug? What… His hand, trailing past cock and balls and further still, froze. So did the rest of him. He blinked several times, very fast. Madara traced the shape he found there—the very definitely not a natural shape—then leaned back for a closer look. There was a— a _plug_? In…

Huh.

He found the edges, slightly slippery as he tugged, almost like…

Oh.

Um.

He looked between the plug, slick with oil, and then Tobirama’s… _Tobirama_ , who was also slick, and stretched from the plug.

Madara tried not to combust. A high-pitched noise escaped his throat. “What— I don’t— _Whyyy_!?”

Tobirama’s smile was small but very smug as he looked Madara over, gaze lingering especially on Madara’s eyes—which were fixed… _there_ —and his cock—which was _so fucking hard_. “You know I like to be prepared.”

That was true, Madara’s mind distantly conceded. Tobirama was a planner at heart. He believed in preparation and overpreparation and backup plans. It was just… Madara had never extrapolated those tendencies to— to— _this_.

Wait! He’d _planned_ it. Like, really planned it. Because they’d been together all evening, so Tobirama must have put it in before their date even, which could only mean—

“You were plotting to seduce me!” Madara irrationally accused. Then he resisted the urge to facepalm, hoping to all the gods that Tobirama didn’t think he _objected_. Because he didn’t. He _one hundred percent_ approved of such plotting.

Seduce away!

Tobirama, fortunately, was utterly unrepentant. “And steal your virtue,” he added teasingly.

Madara spluttered. And then he realised something. He realised that if Tobirama had indeed had that plug in from the moment they met up this evening—and thus all throughout dinner, and then the walk home—that meant… that meant he’d been stretched open the _whole time_. In _public_! And it was all so that he’d be prepared because…

He wanted Madara inside him!

Fire flooded Madara’s veins, and he was moving before he realised it, inexplicably smooth and graceful—really, _so_ inexplicable, but he wasn’t going to question it—as he settled between Tobirama’s thighs. Tobirama encouraged him closer, feet catching behind Madara’s knees, hands pressing flat along his back, and Madara lined up his cock and—

…Missed.

The grace had fled.

He didn’t know why he was surprised.

Eyes clenched shut in mortification, Madara once more made a mental note to study up on earth jutsu… assuming he didn’t die of embarrassment first.

Mercy of mercies, Tobirama didn’t laugh. He just made an impatient, needy sound that had Madara swallowing hard, embarrassment forgotten. Tobirama reached between them for Madara’s cock and arched up. Madara made a strangled sound, eyes wide, as his lover guided him in, and the head of Madara’s cock— It slipped _inside of_ Tobirama. Legs wrapped around Madara’s waist, folding tight, and he slid hilt-deep in one mutually-desperate thrust that made Tobirama’s eyes flutter shut, head thrown back.

Madara, meanwhile, quietly panicked because—

Slick.

Hot.

Tight.

Amazing!

… _Too_ amazing.

Madara’s earlier, shamefully premature orgasm was helping, but only to a degree. Enough to ensure that, instead of coming immediately, he had… maybe a minute? If he was lucky. But still, he was— he was _not_ going to last!

Except no. No, that was unacceptable. He wasn’t going to do that to Tobirama again. He _wasn’t_!

Clawing for control, Madara bit his inner cheek so hard it hurt, a desperate, panicky sound rising from the back of his throat.

In response, beneath him, Tobirama regained focus—Madara had mixed feelings on that, because his bliss at having Madara’s cock inside him had been _amazing_ to witness, but also _not helpful_ —and got a thoughtful look before reaching down between them again. Madara sucked in a sharp breath, partly at fingers ghosting along the base of his cock—control, _control_ , CONTROL DAMMIT!—but mostly at the sudden pressure encircling there, which—control… was suddenly easier?—reigned in his imminent orgasm.

Much to Madara’s confusion, when he looked down, there was nothing to see. But he _definitely_ felt something. And also kinda… sensed something too. Maybe? He wasn’t the best sensor, not like Tobirama, but there was _something_ …

On a hunch, Madara flickered his Sharingan to life.

He blinked in bewilderment. There was a— a _band_ of chakra around the base of his cock! Or… no, that wasn’t quite right. He looked closer, sharp sight taking in the details of thin _lines_ of chakra—glowing under Sharingan sight—coiling round and round his cock till it _looked_ like a flat band. It was perhaps half a finger’s width wide and—

Wait. That was…

Voice high and shaky Madara said, “Did— did you just use a _chakra string_ to— to—”

“–create a cock ring? Yes, yes I did.” Tobirama was utterly unapologetic, even as Madara’s cheeks were shading towards crimson, because _oh my gods_ did that make it a _sex jutsu_!? Tobirama’s hand behind his neck drew Madara down to whisper against his lips, “And unless I consciously release it, it won’t fade until I stop feeding it chakra, which won’t happen till my concentration breaks. So come on, love,” he purred, eyes lidded and lips smirking, “ _overwhelm me_.”

Madara made the teakettle sound again. Tobirama crossed the tiny distance between them, catching his mouth in a— well, frankly _filthy_ kiss. Then he _clenched down_ , tearing a moan from Madara as his hips jerked forward helplessly. And as Madara’s cock thrust deeper into that _amazing_ heat, it tore a matching moan from _Tobirama_.

And that was _it_. Not Tobirama’s words, or his kiss, or the way he tightened around him—though by all the gods of fire, any one of them alone would be enough to reduce Madara to incoherence. But no, what _really_ broke the last of Madara’s fragile control was having Tobirama moan for him… and knowing it was _Madara’s cock inside him_ that made him do it.

Fuck. Okay. His lover wanted Madara to overwhelm him? Well, Madara might be a rank amateur at this, but he’d always been a tactile learner, and hell if he wasn’t going to give it his _very best_ effort!

His best effort, it turned out, was… it was actually not bad. Not bad _at all_.

Intently focussed on Tobirama, on the faintest shifts of his expression, it was easy to figure out exactly how hard, how fast, how deep the other man liked it best. Almost like— oh, like he’d forgotten to deactivate the Sharingan. But Tobirama didn’t seem to care—if anything he was thoroughly appreciative of Madara’s enhanced attention to detail—and for his own part, Madara… He _really liked_ the thought that this memory was going to be engraved in his mind—in his heart— _forever_.

The thought briefly overwhelmed him, and he stumbled, hips shifting. But that turned out to be a fortunate bit of clumsiness, the best sort of accident, as the change in angle—hitting that same place as the one Tobirama’s fingers had found inside Madara, which had felt so amazing?—was the last piece of the puzzle he needed to _overwhelm_ Tobirama.

The chakra string faded, and Madara’s nearing orgasm was suddenly a _lot_ more urgent. But that was fine, it was okay, because Tobirama was clinging to him now, meeting thrust for thrust, utterly _desperate_ sounds escaping him the likes of which Madara couldn’t have imagined in even his wildest fantasies. Fingers tangled in Madara’s hair, tugging him frantically closer, not for a kiss as expected but instead to one side and—

Madara took the hint, set teeth to neck, and bit down. _Hard_.

Under him, Tobirama _screamed_ out his pleasure, all but convulsing as he came, and Madara could do nothing else but follow.

They clung to one another as they came down from the high of their intense lovemaking. Or, well, _Madara_ thought it had been intense. It was for him. And he might not have any other experiences to compare it to, but the way Tobirama trembled from aftershocks, emitting soft, shaky sounds, was… It was a pretty strong hint. And also _really_ hot. So hot that, if Madara wasn’t utterly spent twice over now, he was pretty sure he could get hard again from those sounds alone.

Madara was relieved at the proof that he hadn’t messed up the most important part of things—rather the opposite. He was even a bit smug at the knowledge that _he_ had done this, had reduced Tobirama to this state. He also felt… curious? Tobirama seemed _really_ satisfied, was the thing, and he _had_ promised _all the agains_ —a thought that still filled Madara with awe and glee—so maybe… maybe next time…

“Hmm?” Tobirama said, and Madara realised he’d been thinking aloud again.

Feeling eager, but also a _little_ shy, Madara mumbled against Tobirama’s neck, “Maybe next time we can do this the other way round?”

“Sounds like a plan, love,” Tobirama murmured, turning his head, and the lips pressed to Madara’s temple were definitely turned up in a smile.

Madara totally didn’t—

Okay, so he totally _did_ melt.

His heart was a warm, gooey, fluffy, fuzzy mess as he murmured back, “ _Love you_.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Omake:**
> 
> The next day…
> 
> Tobirama (shameless): *wanders about pointedly sans fur ruff*  
> Madara (flailing): *people will _know!_ *  
> Madara (flustered): *Tobirama _wants_ people to know!*  
> Hashirama (distraught): “Brother! What happened? Your neck—it looks like you’ve been mauled!”  
> Tobirama (smug): “Only in the best way.”  
> Hashirama (clueless): ???  
> Madara (flushed): *teakettle sound*  
> Izuna (gagging): “Cannot. Be. Unseen.”


End file.
